


Interlude

by alcyone (goodmenfall)



Category: To the Ends of the Earth (2005)
Genre: M/M, Pining, violin playing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmenfall/pseuds/alcyone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles walks in on Edmund playing the violin. A fluffy conversation ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my boo, who kept lamenting the lack of Charles/Edmund fic out there. I'm not sure I helped, but it was fun to write.

Charles had discovered Edmund’s secret by chance. It was in the early hours of the morning, and accustomed as he was to taking watch at this hour, he found sleep did not come to him as readily as it ought on those nights when Benét took the watch. And so it was that he found himself drawn to the dining room and the comforting notion of a goblet of brandy. But his step faltered as he drew near; from within came the sound of a violin being played with such melancholy beauty as to stop his hand upon the door handle. The bow stilled from within, as if in response to his presence, and he was about to turn about and return to his cabin when the door to the salon opened and a dear, familiar face was peering at him in delight.

“It IS you Charles! Do come in and share a brandy with me, there’s a good fellow; it is only fair, since my wakefulness at such an ungodly hour is entirely your doing.” Edmund had discarded his waistcoat and indeed his cravat, and the source of the music was still held to the crook of his neck. Charles was transfixed by the elegant form before him and found himself unable to move or speak. Edmund beckoned at him impatiently with his bow, but Charles found himself quite unable to respond.

“Are you quite well, my dear man?” Edmund asked, placing the violin on the table and hurrying to Charles’ side. He made as if to place a hand on the first lieutenant’s brow, a crinkle of concern forming at the bridge of his nose. Charles moved away, as if to study the violin at closer quarters.

“This is your instrument?” he asked, not trusting himself with any more ambitious an attempt at discourse.

“It is not.” Edmund sighed and came to stand alongside him, stroking the strings with his long fingers. “I was forced to leave my violin behind; it was too valuable to expose to these foul conditions. The captain has most generously allowed me to make use of this rather inferior instrument during the voyage; but at a price!” There was amusement in Edmund’s blue eyes and Charles found himself smiling at the young man’s expression.

“Dare I ask what price our esteemed captain has placed upon such a loan?” he asked, Edmund’s good temper putting him at ease.

“He has secured from me the promise of a recital at my pleasure. Can you not imagine the faces of our fellow travellers, at the unpleasantness of being forced into hearing my dreadful sawing at the strings?”

Charles laughed heartily at these words, drawing a look of discomposure from Edmund. “Do I play so very ill indeed?” he asked somewhat priggishly, and Charles smiled widely at him, his fondness for this impossible young man only made greater by his foolishness.

“No, my dear friend, you play with a great deal of accomplishment. It was your attempt at modesty which I found amusing, not your ability.” Charles poured himself a good measure of brandy and settled himself into a chair. “Would you play for me now, if it pleases you?” 

Edmund afforded him a smile which was at once bashful and filled with pleasure, and Charles found himself wondering (and not for the first time, by any means) what it would be like to feel the touch of those curved lips against his own, to possess them and tease them open, to curve his rough palm against the smoothness of that impossibly high cheek, to bury his fingers in the coils of soft hair that covered Edmund’s shapely head.

“What would you have me play, Charles?” Edmund said, poised with the bow against the strings and a mildly impatient arch to his eyebrow. Charles only shrugged and Edmund began to play, his eyes drifting closed as his fingers began their dance upon the fret, producing the most perfect sound Charles had ever heard. He was sure that Edmund must feel the burn of his gaze upon him, but those extraordinary eyes remained closed and Charles was at liberty to study him without fear of being observed. He knew that it was not the fine liquor he drank which was responsible for the fire in his belly; few men had evoked in him as formidable a degree of feeling as the man he now observed. Grateful as he was for Edmund’s fond and sincere affections and the respect he quite readily bestowed upon him (for he had known very little of either until now), his own heart laboured under the weight of a much more tangible emotion, one which he dared not voice nor act upon. And though it caused him no small amount of suffering, it was a fate to which he had quite happily succumbed. 

“Did you not like the piece I chose, Charles? If not, then the fault is yours I believe, for giving me no request.” Edmund’s cool tone pricked at Charles’ conscience; in his study he had neglected his performer, and he was all too conscious of Edmund’s rather delicate sensibility. How he longed to tease him; to draw out the sense of mischief to which he had been party on the odd occasion when Edmund had been tempted by one too many warming nips from Charles’ hip flask as they stood side by side on the foredeck and argued over the prettiest constellation.

“On the contrary, sir. It was such a beautiful piece that I found myself transported to the drawing rooms of the finest London society. For where else would I hear such an accomplished musician?”

Edmund smiled at him fondly, knowing that he was being made light of. Charles swallowed the remains of his drink far too quickly and was assaulted by a violent bout of coughing, which caused Edmund to leap to his side and thump him on the back, all the while murmuring “there there, dear fellow.” As Charles recovered his composure, Edmund’s hand ceased its thumping and rubbed between his shoulder blades in a comforting motion. “Do be careful, Charles,” he said softly, his voice seemingly just above Charles’ left ear. “You’re the only friend I’ve got on this godforsaken vessel!”

Charles looked up at Edmund, whose pale face shone with sincerity and warmth of feeling. “My dear Edmund,” Charles said, his hand reaching up to cover the slender one which was now placed upon his shoulder. “You should not say such things to me, for I am no gentleman.”  
Edmund did not remove his hand as Charles had feared; his fingers rather increased their gentle pressure. “I will not allow this Charles! You are as much a gentleman as any man I have ever known! Whether by birth or by God’s design, you are a gentleman sir!” 

Edmund spoke with such passion that Charles found it necessary to remove himself from his vicinity for fear that he would see the tears which now shone in his eyes. “You are too good to me, Edmund,” he said at last, when he felt able to look upon his friend without embarrassment. 

Edmund regarded him seriously from the other side of the room. “No,” he said quietly, “I am not. I have used you ill on more than one occasion, and I have been insensible of your feelings. It is you who are too good to me, dearest Charles. How insufferable you must have thought me on our first acquaintance!”

Their eyes locked; a good deal was spoken between the two men without a word passing their lips, and at last Charles took up the violin and affected as best he could a look of calm curiosity, in an attempt to spare Edmund any further discomfort. “Could you teach me to play?” he asked, his eyes fixed upon the instrument in his hands. “It has long been a desire of mine to learn.”

Edmund nodded, as yet still a little discomposed; still, he managed a soft smile which Charles catalogued away in his memory, certain that he could weather any storm, survive any hardship, as long as he could recall Edmund’s smile at that moment.


End file.
